Reandn's eyes narrowed, but he'd learned enough not to ask how. Instead he shook his head. "Kacey's doing. Kacey and her rocks."
Rethia gave him a clear, quick look, and then hid behind those bangs again. "Not all of it, Reandn. You don't believe it now, but I think some day you will."
Reandn shrugged. "It makes little difference now."
"It will," she repeated, and got up, her movements filled with deliberate care as she left the room. She was as tired as he was, Reandn realized. She, too, was paying a price for the return of magic.
At least she'd volunteered.
Stop it. Bitter little thoughts like that weren't going to get him anywhere. Reandn scrubbed his hands over his face, his fingers tripping over the scar on his jaw. Still soft and tender, a reminder of how much had happened in such a short time.
After a moment, he convinced his body—which felt it deserved another week in bed—to take charge of itself and get to its feet, and aimed for the privy beside the barn. Then, since he was there—and there seemed to be very little else happening, which made him think no one else was around—or perhaps simply not awake—he went in to check on Sky.
The gelding was cheerful and alert and even inclined to act a little studdy with the mare stabled across from him. Reandn found Sky's brush and turned the horse into the dusty little paddock to work off some of his energy, ducking out through the three-plank fencing to cross his arms on the top and wait. Sky made only a few circuits of the paddock before coyly sidling up to Reandn to lip at his hair.
Reandn regarded the horse, who had been scruff-haired from old sweat when he'd been put up, and looked none the better for having rolled in his stall overnight. He climbed back through the fence and applied the stiff, pig-bristle brush to his mess of a horse, while the mess stretched his neck and wiggled his lips in ecstasy.
When he'd worked long enough to be sweating freely in the noonday sun—for that's how much of the day had gotten away from him—movement at the corner of the barn caught his eye. Farren, he saw, quickly enough, and—he straightened, staring at the second figure. Faline.
He wasn't particularly interested in talking to either of them. Sky snorted impatience at the flies and slapped his side with his tail; the horse really needed a bath of his own. "Any decent-sized streams around here?" he asked Farren, without looking up as the two stopped at the other side of the fence.
"Not too far," Farren said. Faline said nothing, the audible nothing of someone who just doesn't know what to say. After a moment, Farren added, "It's a pity he can't comprehend what was done for him."
Reandn shook his head, not turning around. "I think not, wizard. He's generally on the edge of sanity as it is."
"He's not the only one right now," Faline said. She sounded relieved, as if she was glad to have found something to say at all. "Most of my patrol's running themselves ragged, trying to keep things under control in Solace. The only good thing about the way magic came back is that despite the number of people who can feel it in some way, there aren't all that many who can do anything with it yet."
"At least in Solace, you have a significant number of mature individuals who do understand what's going on, and can help you with the transition," Farren said. "I suspect some of the other cities are having a rough time."
"No doubt," Reandn said dryly, flicking a fly from his nose as he bent to Sky's stomach.
Behind him, Farren's voice gathered enthusiasm. "In a week, we'll have the beginning of the network back. Then priority messages will fly back and forth with little delay—we'll get things sorted out."
Reandn carefully brushed the tender skin behind Sky's elbow and said, "I shouldn't be surprised to hear of such a thing," but shook his head anyway.
"Surprised that we use magic for the good of everyone, you mean?" Farren said, his voice unusually bitter. Reandn didn't answer; eventually the ex-tailor added an apology. "I know, son. You've had a poor introduction to my craft. Believe it or not, some aspects of life will now be quite a bit less complicated."
Reandn snorted—but he knew the wizard was right. Keland, slowly deprived of magic, had drawn into itself. With the breakdown of easy communications, the cities had become isolated from one another. What had been a solid structure of governing under magic had begun to stagger without it—leading to Southern cities who no longer recognized a Wolf when they say one and northern regions like the Resiores, whose resources were so vital but whose people no longer identified with their own king.
Keland would have recovered, Reandn felt. Would have adapted, given a crisis or two to drive it. Could have done without magic indefinitely. His silence said as much to Farren, and said it loudly.
Reandn moved around the gelding's hindquarters and worked his way down Sky's leg without further comment from either the wizard or Faline—although she had something to say, all right, or she wouldn't be here. When Reandn finally stood, he blew a drop of sweat off the tip of his nose and gave the horse a nudge to send him on his way. He tossed the brush through the fence and ducked through to join Farren and the patrol leader; they watched Sky amble around the enclosure, finding the horse easier to look at than each other.
"How did he do it? Is he talking?" It was what Reandn had wanted to know all along, and he couldn't quite keep the importance of it out of his voice.
"He's talking, all right," Farren said.
Faline snorted like someone who'd been forced to listen, and was fed up with it. "He's being held in Solace...eventually we'll get him to King's Keep for a full justice hearing. Under law, of course, Hawley can easily have him put to death—although scuttlebutt is that he's apt to honor the Unicorns' decision. Ronsin has to know that he's just incriminating himself. But he just keeps talking—bragging. He's condemning himself. We couldn't have proven anything otherwise."
"Bragging about his work is all he has left of it," Farren said. "And in truth, he managed an astonishing achievement. He started with a regimen of meditations, attuning himself to the weak forces of the short-lived things of this land. It's something anyone could train themselves to do, with or without magic around to assist."
"Plants," Reandn said, recalling the abundance of greenery Adela had pruned and watered.
Farren nodded. "Eventually he learned to use those forces in lieu of magic—just for the smallest of spells—which allowed him to take even more. As he gained strength, he went from using plants to small animals, then small children—and finally adults, never leaving any evidence of his crimes." He offered Reandn a wry smile. "It was him, of course, who sent those brigands to ambush you, using the stone he'd created to find you. I don't suppose he counted on a Wolf with allergies."
"No," Reandn agreed in a murmur. He leaned against the fence, feeling somewhat small and tired now that it had all been explained. The lingering questions were the last ties to his old life, and it released him into the new. There was no longer the least excuse to keep him here—or anywhere.
His silence seemed to be the opening Faline was waiting for. "I need to talk to you, Dan. You're the only one who's been in on this thing from start to end, and I've got a report to send to the Keep."
"Not doubting me so hard anymore." What was meant to be a question came out as a bitter statement.
Faline regarded him for a moment from serious brown eyes, her expression an odd mixture of regret and resolution. "I stand by it, and you know why. You'd have had the same reservations, in my position."
She was right, and he knew it. But though she stood there, honest and ready to face his anger, she somehow seemed unfamiliar, and not the same woman he'd sparred with in the practice yard—or whom he'd ranked these last four years since his promotion to Wolf First, and hers to Third.
It's not her, he realized. It was him. She was what she'd always been, a Wolf Patrol Leader. But he was something different, something changed by grief and magic. So he was the one who looked away, into the cool shadows of the barn. "You're right," he said. "I'll tell you what I can, as long as I'm h
ere."
It was only when he said it that he realized he had no intention of staying. Faline gave a little frown, as Farren looked sharply at him and said, "You have plans, then?"
"What about the Keep?" Faline asked, hard on Farren's heels.
"I..." Reandn paused a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not going back there," he said, and knew it was true. He'd never return to that life, not to the same keep where he'd lost Kavan and Adela. He'd left it behind when he opened his eyes to Maurant, surrounded by half-dressed women and his boot stuck in wood.
"Your Prime may still consider you a Wolf," Farren suggested, but carefully.
Reandn shrugged. "I'll always be a Wolf." He'd told Adela the same once, and he'd been right. Being a Wolf was what he was. But he was a Wolf on his own, now, someone who would never fit in the pack again.
Faline's frown turned into a scowl, but Farren spoke up again, cutting her off as though he hadn't noticed she was about to say something. Reandn knew better.
"I'm going to be here a while," he said. "Teayo and I have some ideas about reintroducing magic to Keland's people, and it'll take some time to work them up and present them. But Tanager needs to return to Maurant."
"Good idea," Reandn grunted. "Better do it before Kacey kills him."
Farren nodded, his expression wry. "My thoughts exactly. I need someone to take him, and to take a letter to Lina. You'll need a few days to recover, of course, but I was hoping—"
"Tomorrow," Reandn interrupted. The last thing he needed was enough time to really think about what had happened here. It would be raw enough, telling the tale to Faline. "Let him know. We'll ride out tomorrow."
Farren blinked, but recovered quickly. "I guess I'd better start writing that letter, then."
~~~~~
Tanager, riding a borrowed patrol horse, turned out to be a sullen companion, and more of a burden than a help when it came to the chores of travel. Once or twice a day, Reandn reminded himself that he'd been glad for the distraction of this job, although it was turning out to be less of a distraction and more of an irritation.
But as they neared Maurant—and as Tanager realized he would be in some demand as the only one in the town to have been anywhere near the events that had changed their world—the boy grew easier to live with. A chance remark or two revealed his anticipated glee at the effect of his new status on Maurinne.
Lina greeted her son with a cry of joy, and then turned on Reandn, demanding to know of Farren, certain without being told that the older man had been involved in the return of magic. Reandn merely handed her the letter, staying only long enough to reassure Lina of Farren's safety and to hear Maurinne's claim she'd seen a unicorn. When he left it was with new packs slung over the spare horse's saddle, crammed with supplies, and clothing to replace the tattered uniform he still wore—as well as a return letter for Farren. That he'd have to return to Little Wisdom was not unexpected—if not for Lina's letter, and the return of the patrol horse, then for Rethia's healing, as the magic made inroads on his body again.
He kept the return trip leisurely. The days had crept well into summer and even Sky's unicorn-gifted vitality wilted at the noon heat; Reandn did most of his traveling in the early morning hours and into evening darkness. Once or twice he felt active magic at work—more than the hum that was building in his head—and he was careful to avoid it. It was past high summer before he rode back into the familiar territory surrounding Little Wisdom.
Undoubtedly, Faline expected him to check in with her, but she was probably in Solace. Farren was likely to be there as well, helping old city structures to re-emerge in accommodation to magic. He'd need to see them both—but he couldn't simply ride by Rethia to do it, not with his chest tightening up now and again, and the way every step seemed to have turned into an uphill process lately.
Besides, he wondered how the ever-practical Kacey was dealing with the changes. They'd that had no doubt turned her life as topsy-turvy as his own.
Farren, at least, seemed to be about; as soon as Reandn took the turn toward the Teayo's house, he felt the stirrings of increased magic. He set his jaw and rode toward it; it soon stuttered, then ceased altogether. He was still savoring the relief of it when he rounded the bend in the lane and the house came into sight. Sky felt his tension and stopped, while Reandn stared narrow-eyed at the number of horses tied at the front corral posts along with Teayo's hitched cart horse. They were good animals, patrol quality. But the horse at the end of the line was unsaddled, a grey horse whose build and stance sparked an unreasonable flutter in Reandn's chest.
Sky hop-started into a fast rack at the sudden squeeze of Reandn's calves, taking him past the house and straight to the corral. He dismounted and left Sky and the pack horse ground-tied, swiftly reaching the creature who had been Adela's special pet.
The horse nickered at him. Willow. Older, filled-out, minus his gangly demeanor, but no less bright in his dark eye, ever cocky in the carriage of his neck and head. Adela's Willow. He let a hesitant hand fall on the horse's back, while Willow craned his head around to sniff Reandn up and down, whuffing quick little breaths that practically demanded to know where Reandn had been. Reandn hadn't even begun to think through the ramifications of the horse's presence when he heard footsteps behind him.
He didn't turn around right away. He knew that tread, someone he had missed yet wasn't sure he could face. So he merely stood there, the hand on Willow trembling just enough to remind him he wasn't in complete control.
"Danny."
Saxe. Reandn turned around slowly. He found the Pack Leader's brow creased, his eyes troubled—just as uncertain as Reandn. And then, recognizing the misgivings in one another made it suddenly all right, and Saxe snatched him up in a bear hug that squeezed the breath out of both of them. Just for an instant, and then they were grinning idiotically at one another.
"Lonely Hells, Danny, you had us half worried to death," Saxe said, his grin fading to a more serious expression. "You don't have to tell me about it. We got the whole story from Faline."
Reandn shook his head. "No one will ever have the whole story, Saxe. That's mine alone."
This time Saxe's grin was bereft of true humor. "And well it should be. But I mean to tell you, pup, you've been the talk of the Highborns' spring fetes. Half of 'em had the killings pinned on you and the others stayed in their rooms to avoid whatever monster had gotten you. I can't believe we didn't see the connection to Ronsin, when the disappearances stopped once he'd slunk away to Solace." He eyed the puckered pink smudge on Reandn's arm and then tilted his head aside to examine the short, healed but livid line on his jaw. "Collecting scars, hmm?"
"Jealous?" Reandn said, allowing the handling.
"I feel nothing but pity for any man who has to listen to ballads about himself."
Reandn winced. "I don't plan to be in the circles where such things are sung."
"Ah." Saxe nodded. "That brings us quite nicely to the very reason I'm here, Dan."
A dark brow lifted. "Does it?" Reandn asked. He stroked Willow's side. "Your horse, now?"
"You're sidetracking." But Saxe gave the animal a rueful look and said, "No. I led him here. You and Dela saw a good horse in him, but no one else has been able to find it. He was on his way out when we got Faline's first message." He scratched his head and added, "The wizards are doing priority messages now. Most amazing thing. Anyway, I thought you might want him. The one you've got looks borderline sound, I see."
"Sky?" Reandn said in surprise. Aside from his one-hop start, there'd been little to remind him of the horse's scarred hock. "He goes well enough," Reandn said, but was forced to add, "once you get the hang of him."
"Uh-huh," Saxe said knowingly. "Take Willow anyway. You'll need to build up your stock again."
Reandn was silent for a moment. Then, voice low, grey eyes regretful but holding Saxe's gaze, he said, "I don't think so. I don't belong in the Wolves anymore, Saxe."
Saxe snorted. "Is that why you're wearing tha
t shabby old vest? You don't want to be one of us anymore?"
"Not don't want. Can't." When Saxe opened his mouth, Reandn cut him off. "Saxe, you've replaced me. And...I can't go back to the Keep. Not yet." One glance at Saxe's face told him his old friend understood that much. Reandn put a lighter note into his voice. "Besides, Faline must've told you that magic doesn't sit well with me. Too much of it will—and almost has—killed me. I won't be spending much time in keeps or cities."
"I thought your young friend fixed that," Saxe said doubtfully.
Reandn shrugged and moved away from Willow to relieve Sky of his saddle, slinging it over the fence and then moving it down from Willow when the young horse started to lip at the hanging ties. "It didn't last."
"Well," Saxe said, untacking the patrol horse and following Reandn as he led Sky to the paddock gate and turned him in to the small area, "don't give up on us yet. The Prime, the Pack Leaders and the King have been discussing things since we heard the resistance Faline has encountered. People don't know us any more, it seems, and we need to do something about it. I think you'll like what we've come up with."
"I'd like dinner," Reandn said. "Can you come up with that?"
Saxe only gave him a smug grin. He led the way back to the house, through the sickroom and straight into the kitchen. There the room's occupants sat and stood around the rarely used table—a few vaguely familiar Wolves, Faline, Farren, Teayo and his daughters. Kacey looked up and her faint tan darkened with a deep blush; Farren smiled a greeting and Teayo waved a chicken leg. Rethia outdid them all, rising from her seat and placing her hands behind his neck. "Welcome back," she said, and gave him the gift of a smile and peace within his head.
"Thank you," he said gravely, while Saxe looked on in puzzlement.
"You look near as bad as the last time you dropped in on us," Kacey said, typically brusque. She tilted her head to appraise him more carefully. "Maybe not quite. A wash and change of clothes might do you."
Touched By Magic (The King's Wolf Saga) Page 28
